Horcrux Potter
by NeoResilience
Summary: All the other horcruxes fought to keep themselves alive, why not the one in Harry? Starting at the end of the Prisoner of Azkaban, follow the story of how Harry Potter copes with a fragment of Lord Voldemort making itself known. No set pairings. Please read chapter 1 update notes. Thank you for reading.
1. Chapter 1

_A full moon, Remus transformed. Didn't take his potion. Wormtail escaped. Sirius…Sirius!_

The whines of the Grim-like animagus filled Harry's ears, his own heartbeat setting the tempo. He was about to be free, something that couldn't happen now. Because of his actions. Harry ran with every fiber of his being; harder than when the Basilisk was chasing him, faster than when Dudley and his gang stalked him on their flashy bicycles. A cold dread fell over him, but Harry didn't know it was the dementors. All he could think about was the ragged prisoner moaning on the lakeshore.

"Sirius!" Harry shouted, Hermione gasping for breath as she caught up with the Boy-Who-Lived.

Sirius shuddered, sobs coming from him. Agony poured from Harry's godfather.

 _"Not Lily and James…No, not them! James, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"_

Hermione looked up, realizing what was happening. A fresh wave of misery poured over her as she saw the sheer number of dementors floating ever closer. The darkness washed over her, thoughts of Ron and Harry about to die. Of seeing the reflection of those yellow eyes, the eyes that still haunted her when she woke up every morning.

"Harry! Look!"

Harry gazed up from Sirius, looking at his best friend of three years. He saw the tears pouring from her eyes: the eyes that were currently looking up towards the swirling darkness in absolute fear. Lily's screams were deafening at this point, but Harry still rose.

 _"Expecto patronum!"_ He shouted, using the memory the dementors gave him. He didn't understand it: his worst memory was his mother dying, yet it was the only thing he could think of. _My mother loved me, so much. She loved me enough to die for me. I was loved._

The pearlescent stag leapt from Harry's wand, galloping around Sirius, Hermione and himself. Harry barely registered Sirius fainting from the sheer misery coming from the dark masses, he didn't notice as Hermione tried, and failed, to produce the Patronus that could help his own. He heard his father shout, but didn't register the words. Harry fought, pushing his patronus with the knowledge that came with knowing how much his parents loved him. James and Lily could have run, could have abandoned him on the doorstep of any place. They didn't. They fought, and so would he.

Harry fought until he saw nothing but darkness: the dementors were too much for the thirteen-year-old.

* * *

 _He paced, trapped in the confines of this boy's body. He remembered awakening the previous year, after seeing the corpse of the basilisk he had commanded nearly fifty years earlier. It was then that he understood: he had failed that Halloween night; the boy lived. Harry Potter survived, but he was not completely whole. No, Tom Marvolo Riddle – Lord Voldemort, still existed. Part of him was in the very thing he sought to destroy. He had laughed as the boy fell to his manipulations: inflating that filthy muggle pig. Too bad she didn't burst like he wanted. No, his influence was too weak. After all, a fraction of a soul cannot hope to best a whole one._

The room that he had created, mimicking the Chamber of Secrets, began shaking. Something was wrong. Why would this place, the darkest corner of the boy's soul, be fluctuating? He went to the scrying mirror and used a bit of his already shallow power to see what was happening. For the first time in years, Tom Riddle felt fear. Dementors were right outside this vessel, about to kiss the boy.

"Voldemort!"

Lord Voldemort turned to look at who would dare speak to him, shocked to see the thirteen-year-old Boy-Who-Beat-Him.

"Potter."

"Why are you here? Better yet: Where are we?"

"We're inside you, boy. Haven't you figured it out yet?"

"How are we inside me? That doesn't make any sense…"

Voldemort bit back a laugh: this boy was truly idiotic.

"Shut up, boy. Listen to me: you are about to be kissed by a dementor. Even as we speak, your soul is being damaging bit by bit. Look!"

Harry gazed around him at these words, unbelieving that he was actually _talking_ to this murderer. He gasped: the world around him had rips and holes where there was nothing but darkness. He felt the bastard's hands grab his face, before seeing nothing but the crimson eyes of the psychopath who killed his parents.

"Potter! Listen to me. I can save you. When I gave you that scar, part of me came with it. It's why you hurt when I'm near, why you share my skill of Parseltongue. Look, I can help but you need to trust me. If you don't, you will suffer a fate worse than death. You know what will happen. Black and Granger will be kissed."

"It will be worth it if it means you go, too!" Harry shouted, wrestling to free himself from this monster's grip.

"Fool. You faced another part of me last year. If this part dies, I still win. You need to live, and I won't take no for an answer. Don't fight me on this, and thank me later."

Tom embraced the boy, closing his eyes as all around him went black.

* * *

When he opened his eyes, it was to greet the empty sockets of a dementor. Crimson eyes lit in awareness before a hand shot around the throat of the dementor. The dementor shrieked as it felt the pain coming from him; the rest of the dementors fled at the sound of one of their brethren dying. A grim satisfaction rose from within the boy, a dark chuckle as he realized he had a body. Lord Voldemort had risen once again; he would make sure nothing destroyed his horcruxes. He slowly lifted himself from the damp sand beneath him, looking around. The mudblood girl lay there, as well as Sirius Black. Tom thought of a different Black: Bellatrix. Oh, how he longed for the witch's body beneath him. He pictured the beautiful witch in his mind, his hands running through her brown bushy hair. _Wait, brown bushy hair?_ Tom felt a tugging sensation in his chest, before a sharp pain erupted in his head. He shouted in pain, before losing consciousness.

 **A/N:**

So it's been a while since I've been on the site and I'm still working on getting used to the formatting of everything again. Please review this short preview of what I have planned and let me know if you think I should continue this. If I do continue writing this, I will typically have shorter chapters. This is more for mobile users than anything else; I always hated reading a long chapter and having to stop in the middle for whatever reason. Anyway, thanks! -NeoR

 **August 28th update:** Hello, readers. It is half past three o'clock in the afternoon. I hope you're all well. I noticed the first chapter (this one) was receiving a lot of views, but few carried to the next chapter. I can only assume, then, that something about this chapter isn't catching your eye. If it's simply not your taste, that's one thing. If it's because of my writing or something else, please inform me of such. Now, for all the new readers who _are_ interested in the story, here's a brief idea of what I'm thinking in the upcoming chapters.

First and foremost, I don't have any set pairings in mind. I'm willing to work with the general consensus of the readers, you. I hint at a Hermione/Harry pairing because Hermione is the only female figure in Harry's life. I will state, for the record, that I will not do any homosexual Harry pairings. While I understand there is a huge fascination of straight guys fucking and sucking each other off, I am not a fan. There are plenty of fics out there that have Harry taking dick from people (especially Snape and Draco, apparently), go read those if that is your cup of coffee.

Secondly, I'm hoping to have this be less of a "I talk, you listen" type of story. I want your feedback, I want this to be a conversation of sorts between us. You have a voice, should you choose to use it. If you guys want more deviation from the books, let me know! I appreciate the challenge. Change what the horcruxes are/how many? Harry dates multiple people, you can pick? Sure. I'm willing to work with you guys. Some people aren't as flexible with their writing. In fact, that's a bit of why I'm writing this fanfiction. I have this _idea_ in my head of how I would want Harry to deal with scenarios, I have these _what-ifs_ going through my head. But, sadly, I cannot find any ffictions out there that address these. So I took up the proverbial sword and went to battle.

Thirdly, The 'Harcrux' will be similar to how Sam Winchester (of the Supernatural series) dealt with Lucifer, with Tom Riddle's spirit acting in a similar role. That is where the similarities end, fortunately. In my original draft, I simply had the horcrux take over. After reading a few of these, I decided against it.

Fourthly, as a means of encouraging review and interaction, I will, on occasion, give recommendations to various stories on the site. I may even be inclined to give your work a shout-out. This leads to the final point that I wish to address:

Please don't think of me as a review whore. I will not hold chapters hostage, demanding a number of reviews before I post the next chapter. That is ridiculous (though I've seen it done). I encourage reviews because it gives me feedback. Without feedback, I am inclined to believe all my work is utter garbage. I refer to chapter six as a statement to what garbage can be (left as such so that I, and everyone involved, notes said garbage). I seek to improve and become better at this, as I only have a small history of writing. Speaking of, I will complete this story. This is a promise from me to you. I will not abandon this project. So long as I have encouragement from you readers, I will keep at this. There will not be a sequel. Rather, I will complete all of the story in Horcrux Potter. Thank you all for your time, I await your input into the journey we take: together.


	2. Chapter 2

He found himself in a scene most familiar: he recalled waking here many times throughout his time at Hogwarts. Harry Potter shifted his body upward alongside the hospital bed where he saw Ron with his broken leg in the bed to his left, while Hermione was in the bed to his right. He relaxed and closed his eyes, knowing they were safe. His peace was short-lived, however, when he heard the sounds of a piano playing. It was some depressing tune, akin to something at a funeral march. Harry was sure Hermione would have recognized it in a heartbeat, but he, himself, had no clue what song it was. Harry opened his eyes and saw a dark haired man in what would appear his mid-thirties sitting at a piano that was obviously not there ten seconds ago.

"Umm, who are you?" Harry asked, not noticing his glasses were laying feet away.

The man at the piano stopped playing, but the music continued. He stood from the piano and walked over to where Hermione lay sleeping. His pale hand caressed her cheek ever so gently before he chuckled to himself.

"Harry, my boy, why haven't you made a move on dear Hermione here? I know you've particularly enjoyed her backside. It's a shame…you could do so much better if you just _applied_ yourself!" The man laughed again before lifting the blankets covering Hermione's sleeping body, peeking underneath. "Not too bad, for a Mudblood of her age. She _might_ polish your wand if you ask nicely."

Harry felt his face grow hot in embarrassment. How did this… _stranger_ know his thoughts on Hermione's rear? The embarrassment turned to anger at the word 'Mudblood', accompanied by disgust that this man would be looking at such a young girl. Harry fought the feelings down, _especially_ the one that came about with the innuendo at the end.

"Don't talk about Hermione that way! Now, _who are you?_ " Harry growled.

"Don't you recognize me? It's your dear old friend Tommy! I'm hurt, Harry. After all we've been through, you can't recognize your oldest friend?"

Harry gagged. He thought last night was a dream, that he didn't speak to Voldemort. He was clearly wrong, but that didn't explain why this…normal looking man was in front of him, interacting with things. It didn't explain why Hermione hadn't stirred at the groping of this man before him, why Harry felt this connection to this stranger before him. This…man was _not_ Voldemort. He couldn't be! He looked so…normal!

"Voldemort?! How are you here? Why haven't you killed me yet? What did you do to Hermione? Why are yo—stop feeling up my friend you pervert!" Harry shouted, aghast at the image of this monster blatantly feeling underneath Hermione's hospital gown.

Voldemort chuckled at the situation; it was the only thing one could do in his position, after all. He removed his hands from Hermione's developing figure and sat on the edge of Harry's bed, playfully grabbing one of Harry's feet.

"Harry! So many questions! You haven't even offered me a drink, where are your manners? I _guess_ if I _have_ to answer you – which I _don't_ , by the way – they would go something like: 'Harry, I'm a part of you now. I'm not actually here, I'm in your head! Only you can see me and I'm not going away!'. I guess that answers all of your questions, doesn't it? I can't kill you because I am you. I didn't do anything to Hermione because I can't actually interact with Hermione. I'm just an apparition of sorts, think of me as an imaginary friend that _just. won't. go. away_."

At this, Harry actually did puke. He managed to get most of it into the bin at his side. Looking briefly at Hermione's sleeping body, he noticed that sheets did not look disturbed at all. It was as if he imagined it.

"So, you're not real?"

"By Riddle, you sure are thick! I AM real, you dolt. As real as you or Ronnie over there. I'm a part of you! You're real, aren't you? Don't you remember anything from last night? We already had this discussion!"

Harry lay there, contemplating the situation before him. Now that he thought about it, this conversation did seem familiar, barring the Hermione bit. He recalled using Voldemort's soul fragment to repair the holes in his own, torn by the Dementors. He recalled Voldemort briefly taking command of his body, but fighting him off by thinking about Hermione. Harry cared deeply for her; she was closer to him than Ron, though he'd never admit it to either of them. Apparently Voldemort isn't too big on the whole love thing, and love has many forms. Then Harry remembered the last thing he did before passing out.

"Sirius! Is he alright? Did he get away?" Harry asked, dreading the answer.

"Yeah, your dear doGfather got away just fine. I'm glad you listened to me about that Summoning charm. I'm willing to bet he isn't regretting buying you that Firebolt now. Just don't make it a habit of letting guys ride your broomstick, Harry. Your broomstick is for witches only and your hand when you're lonely!"

"I'm just going to ignore those last few statements. You're quite the perv, aren't you Tommy? What, didn't the witches throw themselves upon the great Tom Riddle while you were at school? You were a handsome bloke, from what I recall in your _diary_. Speaking of, Tommy-Boy, what kind of a _wizard_ keeps a _diary_? Did you just not recall what a journal was?"

"Laugh it up, Harry. Go on, get it all out. I'm stuck with you for good, 'till Death do us part'. I can be your ally or I can be your enemy: it's up to you."

"And _why_ would I ever let you be my ally? _You killed my parents!_ "

"Look, Harry, if you're gonna drag that up every time we talk, it's gonna be a real buzzkill on this whole partnership we got goin' on here. Yes, I killed your parents. Would you feel better if I said I'm sorry? I'm not, but if it helps…why not? I'm sorry I killed Lily and James Potter, okay? You happy now? Not gonna throw a tantrum, are you? You didn't even know them! Yes, I recognize that argument holds no weight because I'm the reason why you don't know them, but still. What if they were worse than the Dursleys? From what I hear, your mom didn't even like dear daddy for the first six years they knew each other. Then, suddenly, out of the blue: mommy starts loving daddy, marries him, and conceives you all in the span of three years? That doesn't sound even a little suspicious to you? Smells like love potion to me."

"Stop! My mother was not under the effects of a love potion! You will never be my ally and I will do whatever it takes to get rid of you, once and for all!" Harry shouted.

"Have it your way, then. Guess I'll just have to make your life a living hell until you say otherwise. Best prepare yourself, Harry Potter. The game has just begun."

* * *

 **A/N:** So, there's chapter two. No time turner, no Buckbeak drama. Sirius is alive and well, but Harry has a passenger along for the ride that is life. I know Voldemort that we know from Rowling wouldn't be acting this way, but let's remember that his soul fragment has been merged with a thirteen-year-old boy's entire soul. Harry's soul has a lot more influence over Voldemort's tiny fragment, and the immaturity seen is the result of Harry being a teenage boy. As for Voldemort's appearance (to Harry), he looks younger than 55 (that was the age Tom was when he tried killing wee baby Harry) because I'm assuming there were already rituals he had undergone as well as Harry's soul being much younger. I'm just playing around with this idea because the original idea I had did not involve any apparition of Tom Riddle Jr. in the outline (I have a general plot formed through Year 4). Please review, guys. Even the guests out there. From my perspective, it looks like four people were actually interested in it and the other views came from guests who read a couple of lines then said "this sucks" and closed out of the page. Even a simple "keep it up" will do wonders. Plus, the more interest this story has, the more motivation I have to continue it. This means more content for you to read.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** So, somebody complained via message about me not putting a disclaimer in the chapters. My response? This whole idea of disclaimers is fucking stupid. I don't own Harry Potter – no shit! We have the misfortune of Rowling owning it and now she's dragging the universe through the mud in a grab for money. I do not approve of Cursed Child and I am treating the story as if it were shitty fanfiction. From what I've heard from some sheeple, it pretty much is a shitty fanfic. Time manipulation, seriously?

To a more positive light, a special thank you to Tyler'sPrincess and KingPlotBunny for their reviews on chapter one. KPB, I'm branching Tom Riddle Jr out a bit. Rowling had him as this moderately intelligent evil wizard who was clearly the antagonist. I prefer otherwise. I like showing the regular, human sides of 'bad guys' as it serves to remind people that all the bad things people have done in history have actually be done by, well, _people._ It's like that comment about how uncomfortable people felt about Hitler flirting with girls, playing with his pet, etc. A man responsible for so much evilness is still a man. Tom Riddle Jr. is the same. Anyway, to everyone! I have uploaded chapter two, while this is obviously chapter three. Anyway, we'll do some progression here (I apologize for a dialogue chapter, but I felt it was important to understanding the Horcrux-Harry relationship). I hope you enjoy!

* * *

"So, you might want to relax, Harry. Glaring at me like that is only going to make things worse. Just remember: you're the only one that can see me." Voldemort smirked as he walked towards the doors exiting the infirmary. He grabbed the doorknob.

"Why does it matter if I'm relaxed or not? I'm stuck with you!" Harry spat, crossing his arms.

"Because you have Severus, Fudge, and Pomfrey are on the other side of this door and are about to come it. Put your glasses on, quickly!" Tom whispered frantically before opening the door.

Naturally, he didn't _actually_ open the door. He just mimed it as Madam Pomfrey opened it from the other side. She carried three huge cups containing chocolate milkshakes, while Snape carried a smug look on his face.

"Ah, looks like the arrogant brat is awake after all. I'm shocked; I would have thought the lazy brat would have slept all day. Of course, though, he had to be awake to be pampered. I bet he's just loving having madam pomfrey bring him a bloody _milkshake_. What, Potter, you can face down the Dark Lord but not a few dementors?"

"Now, now, Severus. Mister Potter has been through a terrible ordeal! Being confunded by his parent's betrayal, seeing his professor transform into such a dark creature, almost being kidnapped by Black himself! It's a miracle Black panicked and ran when he did! Could you imagine the press if Harry Potter were kidnapped?" Cornelius Fudge ranted, dabbing his forehead with a handkerchief.

Snape didn't reply, but it was clear that he _was_ , in fact, imagining the press if Harry Potter were kidnapped. Preferably dead. Harry didn't pay attention to the scowl on Snape's face, he was far more distracted by Tom's smirk on his face as he went over to Snape and grabbed ahold of his left forearm.

"Harry! Hey, Harry! You wanna piss Severus off? Make a comment about serving the Dark Lord and stare at where my hand is, the look should be priceless!"

"Well, if it isn't sour-grapes Snape! You know, at least I faced the Dark Lord. From what I hear, you only bowed before him!" Harry shot back with a smirk, staring meaningfully at where Tom had gestured.

The look on Snape's face was priceless. First the shock struck him, followed by all the blood leaving his face in fear. This was only temporary, though, as it all rushed back in a bout of anger. It left his face splotchy, not unlike a barber's pole. He opened his mouth to shoot back what was clearly some retort, but Harry cut him off.

"Minister Fudge! We really must stop meeting like this, sir. How have you been?" Harry asked, channeling a charm he never knew he had. He thanked Madam Pomfrey after she handed him his chocolate milkshake. He greedily sucked it down: after all, Harry had never had a chocolate milkshake before.

The Minister grinned a wide smile and walked over to the foot of Harry's bed. He removed that ugly bowler hat from his head before speaking,

"I daresay better than you, my dear boy! It seems like just yesterday we were in Diagon Alley; trouble sure does seem to find you. Madam Pomfrey assures me you will be completely fine, after you finish your milkshake of course. Straight from Fortescue's, I'm told! That reminds me, it has been too long since…"

"Whuzgonon?" Ron groaned, waking. He shifted and immediately shouted as he put weight on his broken leg. He immediately shut up as he noticed the chocolate shake on the table beside him, grabbing it and slurping it down. He managed to get more of it in his mouth than on his face, but that wasn't saying much. 51% _is_ technically more than half, after all.

Tom had sighed rather loudly and walked over to Ron's bed and got in bed with him, laying his head on Ron's shoulder. He smiled a goofy grin and snuggled closer to the ginger boy before falling asleep. Harry looked over at Hermione in concern: she still hadn't woken up. He thought back to when she last was in here, petrified. He shuddered at the thought of being stuck in that state.

The momentary distraction caused by Ron's incessant slurping was shortly forgotten as yet another guest made his way into the infirmary. Albus Dumbledore strode into the infirmary, his eyes twinkling. Odds were that Sirius already made contact with the elderly headmaster, Harry felt a sense of relief at seeing the old man.

"Ah, I see you've arrived Minister. I was hoping you would accompany me to my office? We should leave the children to rest: they've been through a very trying time. I believe Miss Granger should be waking soon. Severus, are you coming along?"

Albus had cast his arm around the shoulders of Minister Fudge, guiding him out of the infirmary. Snape shot a glare at Harry before turning and following the Headmaster and Fudge, his cape billowing behind him. It was a masterful move, as Fudge really had no say-so in the matter. He noticed Ron had fallen back asleep, the remains of his milkshake pooling around his chest. Tom was now on the floor next to the bed, his hair coated in chocolate milkshake. Harry, too, felt himself fighting against his closing eyelids. He felt a wave of anger as he realized there must have been sleeping potion in the milkshakes. Cursing Madam Pomfrey, and himself for falling for such a tactic, he gave one final look at Hermione's sleeping figure before succumbing to the potion.

* * *

 **A/N:** So there's chapter three. Next chapter will be end the third school year and transition to the summer events of Goblet of Fire. Hermione's fine, by the way. There's no time turner in my version of events, either. I'm not going to try to cover how Hermione managed to attend all her classes (though I could just say she uses memories provided by a professor or something). I refuse to accept that the Ministry of Magic would allow a device that manipulates time to be used by a teenaged witch, especially a muggleborn one! The Ministry was still bigoted in year three, it just wasn't mentioned because it served no purpose to Rowling at the time she wrote it. Anyway, leave a review. If it's something I can answer without giving anything away, I'll try to answer your question via Author Note. Try to avoid sending private messages as if it's a question, someone else may have that question too. I'd rather not answer the same question more than once. I have no clue when the next update will be, but leave your thoughts and perhaps I'll feel motivated. Until next time! -NeoR


	4. Chapter 4

When Harry, Hermione, and Ron were discharged from the hospital wing the next day, they found it to be almost deserted. Angrily, Ron slapped a hand to his forehead.

"Damn it!" He shouted, earning a glare from Hermione for his language. "I forgot today was a Hogsmeade day. I was hoping to pick up a few sweets. Mum sent some money for Scab- I mean, Pettigrew's food, but..yeah…" He trailed off, giving Harry an apologetic look. Harry just laughed, which resulted in Hermione looking at him incredulously.

"I know you're probably going to be mad at me, Ron, but I just realized something that, to me, is hilarious. You've been sharing a bed with that filth for the last three years and neither Fred nor George said anything about it!" He laughed again, shaking his head. This earned a similar grin from Voldemort, who had decided to remain silent throughout all that transpired after their discharge.

The four had begun wandering about the grounds, Hermione and Harry filling Ron in on the events on the night previous. When asked about how they got away, Harry shrugged and mentioned using a Patronus. Voldemort nodded approvingly at how easily Harry lied to his two closest friends. His nodding became a chuckle when Hermione wrapped an arm around Harry and laid her head on his shoulder, causing Harry to shoot a glare towards the apparition. That didn't stop Harry from wrapping his own arm around Hermione in what felt like an awkward sideways hug. Hermione didn't seem to mind, though.

"You know, Harry, you keep doing all these noble and chivalrous things for me and one might think you fancy me." She teased, laughing at the blush on Harry's face. It was clear she had no clue that Harry _did_ , in fact, fancy her. Ron, on the other hand, was red-faced for an entirely different reason.

"Oi! I helped, too, y'know! The troll, the Chamber, hell – I even broke my leg for you guys!"

Hermione rolled her eyes, but because of how she was angled, only Harry saw. Harry knew that Ron was also starting to crush on their mutual friend. He figured Ron didn't _actually_ like Hermione, but felt affection towards her as she never judged him for his family's lack of wealth, always helped him with his homework, and stuck by him even after all the fighting the two did. Noting Ron's jealousy, Harry decided to curtail what might have turned into another fight.

"Ron, relax, mate! She's _teasing_ me. Hermione's just trying to keep the mood light so I don't dwell on last night too much. Who commanded the chessboard when we stopped Quirrel? Who joined me to rescue Ginny? We both know I can go on, mate." Harry turned to Hermione, "And thanks, Hermione. I appreciate what you're trying to do." He gave her a slight squeeze.

Hermione smiled and opened her mouth to say something, but was cut off by an unwelcome guest:

"Well, if it isn't Potty, the Weasel, and his little mudblood girlfriend!" Draco Malfoy drawled, "Off to have a little crying session now that the half-breed got sacked? Talk about irony. Who would have guessed that a wizard named _Remus Lupin_ was a _werewolf_!?"

The Gryffindor trio stopped, with Voldemort walking behind Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle. Voldemort caused a flashing sign with arrows to point at Crabbe and Goyle with the words 'dumb brute' on it. He looked appraisingly at Draco for a moment, before shrugging in a non-committal way. It was almost as if he were trying to say Draco was actually _worth_ something.

"Hello, Draco. How are you today? I would have thought you would have taken advantage of the last Hogsmeade trip before summer?" Harry asked politely, earning a shocked look from everyone else there, sans Crabbe and Goyle. Those two were too dense to understand anything.

"What are you on about, Potter?" Draco asked, completely confused.

"I noticed your mother doesn't send you sweets and the like anymore, now that you can go to Hogsmeade and all. I'm sure it's a sign of your growing independence that she lets you choose your _own_ sweets now by buying them during these trips. Of course, you may already have some saved from the last trip, or perhaps you intend to just buy some from the trolley once you're on the train. It's cheaper to buy the goods from Hogsmeade, though, not like you couldn't afford it. However, a wealthy family such as yours does not remain so by needlessly throwing away it's coin. I think you're too wise to think otherwise, though." Harry replied, not removing his arm from around Hermione.

Draco opened and closed his mouth a few times, with no words coming out. One could see the how flabbergasted he was at how Harry was treating him. Hell, did Harry _compliment_ him? Draco grabbed Crabbe and Goyle and turned to walk way, but not before Draco said one parting message.

"See you around, Potter!"

"I'll write to you sometime this summer, Draco!" Harry called after him.

Watching the Slytherin trio depart, Harry took note of the three faces around him. Ron looked angry, once again. Hermione looked almost proud. Voldemort just had this smirk on his face.

"That was _brilliant_ , Harry! Draco never even knew what hit him! He probably expected some angry retort or even a hex or two, but he never expected you to be _nice_ to him! He's probably going to be confused for the next couple weeks, or until one of his parents tells him. Oooh, that was so clever! I wish I would have thought about that back in primary school…" Hermione gushed.

Ron was, well, Ron.

"Harry! What the bloody hell was that!? Why would you be _nice_ to that slimy git? You didn't even defend Hermione! And what was that about writing to him this summer? What the hell, mate?!" He ranted.

"Ron, relax. _Relax!_ I'm borrowing a tactic I've seen Dumbledore do a lot. Misdirection, avoidance. You play chess, you _know_ strategy!Think! How is what I just did going to affect Malfoy?" Harry asked, patiently.

Ron stood there, fuming, but did as Harry asked and began thinking about the interaction between Harry and Draco. Realization struck, rather quickly.

"I get it! It's like when the Queen's in danger, but you decide to move a pawn on the other side of the board! It's such an unusual tactic that throws your enemy off because you didn't do what they expected! Not only that, but that comment about writing to him this summer will really throw him off because, now, he will always have some part of him thinking about you whenever he sees an owl delivering mail. He never knows when he will get the letter, either. He could wake up every morning thinking that today might be the day he gets written from Harry Potter! Imagine if you actually _did_ befriend him, Harry! Or at least trick him into thinking you two are friends. Four years of never having to hear him bully us again!" Ron zoned out, no doubt fantasizing about a world where Draco Malfoy never bothered him again.

Harry noticed that both Voldemort and Hermione were looking at him as if they had never seen him before. Harry, himself, didn't recognize himself after the interaction between Malfoy and himself. He simply had a thought and felt it was the best way to go about it all. He shrugged, and the trio walked back to the castle to enjoy dinner.

* * *

Dinner was a boring affair, if you had asked Harry. Whispers echoed off the castle walls, but Harry paid them no mind. No doubt, there were rumors circulating about Harry's actions the night before. As far as anyone knew, he had cast a patronus strong enough to repel hundreds of dementors. After all, how else could he have prevented himself and Hermione from being Kissed? The whispers stopped abruptly when Albus Dumbledore strode to the podium.

"May I have your attention, please? Thank you, thank you. That's quite true, Misters Weasley, quite true. Now, I have a few end-of-the-year announcements before we announce the winner of the house cup. First off, the Minister of Magic has agreed to remove the dementors from the grounds of Hogwarts. It has been decided by the Wizengamot that Sirius Black will not attempt to attack the castle again. We know little of Mister Black's motives, but it is clear that whatever he was searching for here is gone. Secondly, it is my regret to announce the resignation of Professor Lupin. For reasons I am no doubt you are aware of, he has decided to step down from the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Let us all wish him well in his future endeavors, and thank him for a spectacular year or learning. No doubt better than the last few, I'm sure."

The students and staff all rose and applauded, with a few laughs at Dumbledore's comments about Lockhart and Quirrel. Harry glanced over at the Slytherin table and made sure Draco saw him. Draco, although reluctantly, clapped a few times. Snape, on the other hand, clapped a single time before seating himself.

Lupin rose, looking rather rugged after the events of last night. He gave everyone a slight wave before seating. Professor Dumbledore remained standing as the rest of the audience returned to their seats.

"Thank you, Professor Lupin, for a wonderful year. Now! I believe we have some cups to award, correct?"

* * *

As expected, Gryffindor had won both the Quidditch and House Cups, which left Oliver Wood a crying mess of emotions. Harry felt a sense of pride at being able to turn around Gryffindor's bad Quidditch Streak, especially for Oliver. He recalled similar stories of muggle sports players who felt such emotion following a championship win, especially if it was their _last_ game with that organization. He gave Wood a pat on the back, before getting up. Harry walked up to where Lupin's office is and waited.

* * *

 **A/N:** So there's chapter four. Let me know your thoughts on this chapter. A special thanks to Tyler'sPrincess for the review. Check out the story "The Mother's Child!" by Tyler'sPrincess and give some feedback as well. Did you like how Harry handled Draco? And give your thoughts about pairings. I know I've hinted at a Harry/Hermione pairing, but nothing is concrete yet. I'm actually considering having Harry go through various relationships, so he's pretty much open to date almost any witch out there. He won't be polishing another wizard's wand, however. I never understood the fascination with taking straight people and turning them homosexual. It isn't appealing to me, so I'm not going to write it. Almost anyone else is fair game, however. I will say that I do intend to have _some sort_ of interaction between Narcissa Malfoy and Harry. No spoilers, but he's not going to be having sex with her. At least, not anytime soon! I won't be writing any smut, but the rating will increase as Harry grows older. Now, I speak directly to the guests who have been reading, please review. Take the time to do so and speak up. I see on the traffic page that I have guest views, but that's it. I do not know if you guys and gals read the chapter or not. Perhaps you just read a few lines, think "this is garbage" and exit. I'm writing this for myself  and you readers. Anyway, the next chapter will cover the homecoming of Harry and the early parts of the summer. If you'd like, I may do a jump to the Burrow. You all have a voice, readers. Until next time - NeoR


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I apologize for the delay. I found myself caught up in reading 'Unsung Hero' by MeghanReviews. Not a bad story, however I am very disappointed that a sequel was created and then abandoned. Don't you guys hate that? You find a good fanfiction to invest time into and the author ends up saying 'fuck it, I quit'? I assure you all, this will not be the case with me for this story. It may take me years to finish it, especially if I lack motivation, but I WILL finish the story, all the way to the end. Now, a special thank you to Tyler'sPrincess and KingPlotBunny. KPB, I agree about the smut. Nothing wrong with it, however. I've found myself particularly drawn to anything involving Harry and the Black sisters, lately! Daphne will definitely be a pairing, but not a permanent one. Harry's a celebrity and I'm going to make sure he gets a fair share of teenage fun. TP, I will confess that the odds of a Harry/Ginny pairing are slim. I always hated Ginny as a character. She's a Mary Sue if there ever was one, in my opinion. Now! I believe I have a chapter to write, so here goes! Oh, by the way: we're doing a time skip.

* * *

Harry had just awoken from a terrible nightmare, only to be greeted by a seething Voldemort. Voldemort – or Marv, as Harry called him, had been in a foul mood since the beginning of summer break. After having to experience firsthand what the Dursley family was like, he had begged Harry almost on a daily basis to just kill the filthy muggles. When Harry adamantly refused, Marv suggested that Harry at least do _something_ to get them off his back.

Naturally, Harry listened. It had occurred about a week into the summer holiday when Dudley decided to try beating Harry up. Dudley, having been obliviated of the events regarding his Aunt Marge, knew Harry could not use the 'm' word outside of school. Harry, after five minutes of running from his cousin, decided to enact the plan he formulated back at Hogwarts. He had slowed down so that Dudley could catch up to him, which did not take long; Dudley had been exercising as part of a regime designed for the miniature whale to lose weight. As Harry heard his cousin's footsteps approach, he turned and, with great force, slammed his fist into Dudley's nose.

There had been great satisfaction as Harry felt the bones in his cousin's nose shatter, and even greater satisfaction when Harry followed his assault on his cousin with a few well-placed kicks to the knees and groin. Marv had nearly pissed himself laughing as he watched Harry continued to kick his cousin in the ribs until he heard numerous cracks. As Dudley lay there, blood pouring from his nose and mouth, Harry warned him that if Dudley ever bothered him again, there would be one less Dursley around to feed.

Vernon and Petunia were, as expected, completely infuriated with their nephew. Harry dragged their unconscious son into the living room and looked, with hatred, at the two people who made his life miserable for so many years. Vernon tried throwing him out, but Harry had simply smirked and reminded Vernon that he only needed to live in the house with Petunia. Vernon was just as disposable as his useless turd of a son. When they threatened to call the police on him, Harry simply shrugged as if to dare them to do it. No police officer would believe such a scrawny, malnourished boy could do so much to a boy of Dudley's size. However, to ensure Vernon didn't try killing him, Harry had given Dudley the healing potions he'd stolen at the end of term.

Within hours ( **A/N:** Yes, I know what you are probably thinking. Hours? Seriously? Harry took days to recover from less. I'm the author, I'm calling the shots. Besides, I'll just say that magic potions work a hell of a lot better on muggles. Muggles lack any magic to fight the effects of an outside force of magic.), Dudley was completely healed, but overall traumatized at the event.

From that moment on, Harry Potter was given three large meals a day and had free reign to do as he pleased. It certainly didn't hurt that Harry would brandish a large knife whenever Vernon tried threatening him. So, on that summer morning in mid-July, Marv was seething for a different reason. It was probably because Harry had been adamant about exercising, reading Ancient Runes textbooks, and practicing Herbology and Potions whenever he could. Herbology and Potions were the only two branches of magic that Harry could practice in the summer without penalty by the Ministry. He acknowledged that he could have practiced Divination and History as well, but he did not particularly care for History and he intended to drop Divination in favor of Ancient Runes.

He had sent a letter out to both McGonagall and Dumbledore requesting the transfer, confident that he would be approved. After all, he _was_ the Boy-Who-Lived. The texts were sent to him from Hermione; her books from the last year. If he was refused, he would simply mention how it was unfair that they let Hermione take so many courses at once but wouldn't allow him the opportunity to change early on. He felt his Head of House would approve the transfer; her feelings on Divination and Trelawney were well known.

Harry got out of bed, ignored the seething Marv, and went to his dresser to get changed for the day. He admired his wardrobe full of fitting clothes, albeit random ones. He decided that if Dudley was going to be responsible for providing Harry's clothing, it should at least be clothes that _fit._ So Dudley, using his bullying ways, had managed to get Harry an assortment of clothing that all fit Harry. Some of them were even designer, though Harry didn't recognize the names.

An added perk of his plentiful meals during the summer was that Harry had plenty of nutrients to aid a growing teenage boy. No longer did Harry see the outline of his ribs when he gazed upon his reflection. No longer did Harry feel as if he resembled the dementors; skin stretched over bone. Quidditch did hardly anything for exercise, despite popular belief. One used a magic broom to move around. The chasers and beaters saw a bit more exercise, but they had to train off-field to see results. Keepers just relied on reach and mass. Seekers? They just sat on their brooms and used a hand to grab the snitch.

So Harry decided to exercise, if only to be toned. He didn't do anything spectacular and was certainly not some muscled god; he knew he was still growing and that too much muscle would most likely stunt his growth. He recalled reading something like that from a report issued to the Dursleys regarding Dudley's diet. If anyone asked Harry why he wanted to be tone, he would have said he wanted to be a better Quidditch player. The truth was far from that. He had two reasons to want to be tone and the first was that he was insecure about his appearance. Being beat down: physically, emotionally, mentally, and magically, had really done a number on his self-esteem. Growing up as a 'freak' and being beaten and starved by his guardians would do that. He was actually surprised he hadn't gone Dark by now.

The other reason for Harry's desire to be tone was related to his insecurity, in a way. Harry wanted to look good, especially for his bushy-haired brunette friend of his. He had begun to have more sexual thoughts and feelings following his third year, most of which were focused on his closest, and only, female friend. He had had multiple wet dreams involving her and other witches at the school, but felt shame when he would see their hands trailing his bony body. Why would any witch want some bony wizard? Harry decided to fix this instead of worrying over it. So he exercised and ate well, focusing on getting more protein in his diet.

As Harry dressed, he decided that he should practice some more potions today. When Marv had suggested this to him at the beginning of summer, he originally scoffed at the idea. Harry genuinely believed he was rubbish at potions, thanks to Snape's words over the years. When Harry tried explaining to Marv how bad he was at it, he was met with a logical argument so sound that he caved.

Marv had told him that if he was bad, then that was all the more reason to practice potion-making. He also told Harry that making a potion was not unlike cooking a meal, which Harry had plenty of practice of. You simply followed the directions given and, if you did everything right, you would end up with what you set out to make. Sure, it may not be the best out there, but not everyone could be a Chef or Potions Master. After all, Harry knew how to be precise when it came to following instructions. Snape would give detention or take away points for improper instructions; the Dursleys used to beat and starve him if he failed something.

So, for the rest of the day, Harry worked on a variety of potions with the ingredients he had available. It was challenging, because he had to avoid using magic to maintain the heat, but Harry had managed using a portable gas stove that Dudley got for a camping trip years back.

* * *

It was just past dinner and Harry was returning to his room when he found Hedwig there, holding a letter from Hogwarts. Eagerly, he ran over to the snowy owl and took the letter from Hedwig, earning a reproachful hoot as Harry ignored his pet. Harry quickly apologized, gave her a treat, and sent her off to go hunting. Opening the letter, he unfolded it to read the response to his request to transfer to Ancient Runes.

 _Dear Mister Potter,_

 _I am pleased to hear you are taking your education seriously, especially this early before OWLs. I have spoken to Professors Dumbledore and Babbling and we have come to a group decision._

 _You will be allowed to drop Divination and transfer to Ancient Runes, under the provision that you maintain an Acceptable in the course. Should you fall below this grade, you will have certain privileges revoked for as long as necessary. If you haven't already, please acquire the textbooks assigned for the third year and study them. I'm sure Miss Granger will be more than eager to help you._

 _Mister Potter, we are taking a certain risk with allowing you to skip the first year of Ancient Runes. This is not a normal occurrence. Should any of your classmates ask, you will tell them in no uncertain terms that you had received tutoring over the summer and passed an exam allowing you entry into the second year of Runes._

 _We are giving you a rope, Mister Potter. Please be sure not to hang yourself with it._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Professor McGonagall._

"Yes! I'm in! You hear that, Marv? I got in!" Harry celebrated, throwing a punch in the air.

"You do know that I'm a part of you, right? I knew you were in the moment you did, _because I'm in your head!_ " Marv replied dryly.

Harry rolled his eyes at Marv's remarks before grabbing a fresh piece of parchment and jotting a letter to Hermione:

 _Dear Hermione,_

 _How are you? Thank you for your last letter, and again for the textbooks. Speaking of which, I got in! I'll be in Ancient Runes with you! Ron's been mentioning the Quidditch World Cup in almost all of his letters, with little else on his mind. I'm hesitant to tell him that he'll be alone for Divination, but I'm sure Dean will help him out. Five Sickles says he throws a fit when he learns about this._

 _Yes, I've been doing my homework. You might be pleased to know that I've been practicing my potions as well. After thinking about it, potions is not that different from cooking and I've always been pretty good at that. I'm sure Snape will still say my work is sub-par, but we all know how that greasy git is. The Dursleys are actually treating me well this summer. I think Professor Dumbledore gave them a visit while we were on the train. Write me back soon._

 _Miss you,_

 _Harry._

* * *

 **A/N:** So there's chapter five. I kind of rushed this, so I apologize for any mistakes. I don't know the schedule for fourth year, but I am going to conveniently have Runes available for Harry. Don't fight me on that. And let me know what you guys think of me addressing the Horcrux as 'Marv' (short for Marvolo, by the way). I felt it would get rather confusing once Harry starts actually dealing with Voldemort. As always, please review. We have have a mutually beneficial relationship here. The more feedback I receive, the more motivation I have to jot out a new chapter. Which means more for you to read. Until next time! - NeoR


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:** As a special thank-you for the first (and only) guest to review, I present another chapter! A thank you to KingPlotBunny for the review, and I'm here to address that. I feel that the interaction between Tonks and Harry as you've described it would be too cliché. Many of the 'Honks' (if you will) stories that I've read typically have her training Harry. I've got a compromise, however, and it deals with how I said Narcissa would be coming into things soon. Also, I will take the time to thank CazadoraNocturna97, LabRat4, Lumiere D'Amour, Ravena D. Alister, SoulOnFire91, Tyler'sPrincess, delenda est c, and labass for following my story. Thank you all for the support: I appreciate it. Now, as I'm not going to have an author's note at the end of this, I will ask that you all review and give your thoughts so far. Even if you guys are reading this in the future and there are chapters ahead, take the time and review. Your support, whether it be past, present, or future, is very much appreciated. Please enjoy!

EDIT: September 8th, 2016. I am absolutely aware this chapter is garbage. I ask that you please carry through this, as it does get better again. The only reason I don't go back and edit the content is because I think I need this bad chapter as a reminder to not spout the garbage. It's not bad in terms of grammar, but I'm just not that happy with it. Thank you for your patience and for going onward.

* * *

 _Harry,_

 _I'm well, thank you for asking! I'm writing this just after I got your letter and sending it back with Hedwig, she seems to like the weather here. I'm so happy that you got into Runes with me! I can introduce you to some friends of mine in there: it's high time you start branching out, don't you think? But don't you dare think I'm trying to get rid of you, you're stuck with me! I haven't heard much from Ron this summer, besides the invitation to join you all if his dad can get the tickets. If it doesn't work out, would you like to visit sometime? I'm sure the Dursleys wouldn't mind, especially if we offered to pick you up. I'm pleased that they are treating you well, finally. You never said much about them, but I know they haven't treated you fairly in the past._

 _You are right about Ronald, though. He'll be sure to throw a tantrum when he learns he has one less person to copy from. Honestly, why can't he be more like you? I won't take that bet, however, because I've been hoping to purchase a few books once I can get to Diagon Alley. One, in particular, is_

 _An In-depth Analysis of 19 th Century Charms by Desmond Grant. It covers a bunch of work used during the American Civil War that I'm just so fascinated by! It was used as a reference in one of my Runes books (which I hope you've been reading, by the way!) and I could not find it at the Library at the school. As you know, I'm out of the country right now and I doubt I'll be able to go to Diagon Alley until late in the summer break._

 _I'm glad to hear you're practicing potions, and you're right: it basically is the same as following recipes in a muggle cookbook. Professor Snape will simply have to try harder in his excuses now! I genuinely wish we had a different potions professor; Professor Snape knows the subject, but he is not that good of a teacher, really._

 _I truly am happy you're starting to take your education seriously, Harry. OWLs are coming up soon and while they aren't as important as your NEWTs, they still say a lot about who you are and (obviously) determine what NEWT courses you can even take!_

 _I won't be able to answer any letters in the next week or so; I'm going to be terribly busy. I think I'll be able to get back in touch a few days before your birthday, however._

 _I miss you, too._

 _Hermione_

Harry had read the letter a few times over, now, after Hedwig returned with it. He had been surprised at how quickly Hermione had replied, but was slightly dismayed at how slow owl post was. It had taken an entire day for Hedwig to deliver the letter and more than an entire day for her to return. He wished there was a quicker means of communication in the magical world, barring the obvious floo calls. Harry didn't have access to a Floo and doubted Hermione did either.

Sitting on his desk was the very book Hermione had written about, newly purchased via Owl Order from Flourish and Blotts. He debated whether he wanted to send it to Hermione now or wait until he could give it to her in person. His birthday was coming up in three days and while he didn't expect Hermione to get him anything, he wanted to at least give her the opportunity to send it along with Hedwig on a return trip.

With that decision made, he wrapped the book up as well as he could and wrote a response to Hermione. Enclosing the package and letter together, he sent Hedwig off to deliver the bundle to Hermione. Marv decided to make his presence known, as only he could.

"Way to go, Potter! Glad to see you're making some moves on Granger! Keep this up and she'll be all over you like goblins on gold! Got any plans for her birthday, yet?"

"Marv, you _know_ when her birthday is. You _know_ if I've got plans or not." Harry dully replied.

"Yes, but I wanna hear you say it! We're getting laid, my friend! By the end of your fourth year, you're not gonna be a virgin anymore, kiddo. Not if I can help it! I remember my first time: she was a screamer, for sure! Now, hush up, it's time for your History lesson."

Harry groaned, first at Marv's rudeness and second for the fact that Marv decided to teach him History of Magic himself. As Marv not-so-helpfully pointed out, he had gotten Outstanding on every OWL and NEWT he'd taken at Hogwarts, and he had taken them all. When Harry asked why Marv hadn't helped him with Herbology or Potions, Marv scoffed and explained that Harry had access to those resources himself. Harry needed to prove himself if he wanted to learn anything from Marv, instead of relying on him for everything. Harry had begrudgingly agreed.

Harry did not mind the lessons. In fact, he learned quite a lot about magical history from Marv. He learned more in one hour with Marv than his entire education with Binns. Not only that, but Marv would incorporate strategy and provoke thought in the lessons, asking what Harry may have done differently were he in that position. Harry thought Marv was making sure Harry knew the history, but Marv was teaching him how to be a leader.

* * *

She walked carefully down the tile floors of the manor, careful not to have her heels make any sound as made her way to the oak door ahead of her. She carefully opened the door and saw her target sitting in a dragon-hide chair, bent over numerous papers and scribbling furiously on a bit of parchment. Making sure he did not detect her, she slowly raised her wand and pointed it at the man.

"Obliviate!" She cried, focusing her intention and her wand on the man before her.

The man acquired a blank look on his face before returning to his work, oblivious to the woman's actions.

Satisfied with her spell, she mentally thanked Lockhart for teaching her the strength of the Memory Charm. She openly smirked as she recalled testing it on him shortly after learning it, depriving him of the knowledge that he taught her in the first place.

Making her way down the foyer, she went outside to where her son was flying on the broom her husband bought for him years back. He landed after seeing her and walked up her, his face a sweaty mess.

"Yes, mother? I'm trying to practice. If we're going to have the English National Team here before the World Cup, I'd like to impress them!" spoke the boy, irritably.

"And I'm sure you will impress them, Draco Dear. I merely wanted you to come in for lunch. First, though, let me clean you up a bit. I don't want you sweating all over our home." She replied, brandishing her wand.

Draco scoffed.

"Mother, we have house elves to clean the place up. It's not like it matters!"

Narcissa Malfoy rolled her eyes at her pathetic excuse for a son and let him walk in front of her, before casting the same spell on him as she did on her husband. With a look of confusion, Draco turned and returned to the Quidditch Pitch, getting back onto his broom.

"Now, where was I?" Narcissa asked herself, before smiling.

She made her way to the potions lab that Severus had been so kind to set up for her and Draco. Lucius was never the best at potions and Draco was only ever in the lab for private lessons with Severus, so it was to remain empty for the next three weeks. Plenty of time to finish the potion she was working on.

As she entered the lab, she walked over to the bathtub one of her servants had brought there for her. It was a gold tub accented with ivory and silver. Grandiose, for sure, but required for the best effects of the potion. Within the tub sat a mixture whose name was long lost to time. Not even Severus knew of this potion, but Narcissa did. She had been the potions prodigy of the Blacks, after all. Though she was a Malfoy now, some things must never be shared.

The mixture consisted of a number of ingredients, some were as expensive and rare as the last. The blood of a newborn child, phoenix blood and tears, unicorn blood – obtained from a unicorn on a full moon without force, veela blood, and dittany were examples of the rarest ingredients. The unicorn blood was particularly hard to find and dangerous. If the potion were to be swallowed, it would kill her outright. Fortunately, the potion was not meant to be consumed.

She made her way to a small box sitting just off to the side of the tub and opened it, revealing a bottle of blood and a small glass vial no larger than her pinky finger. The blood was hers, drawn at the age of sixteen and kept under a preservation charm. The vial contained golden sand, taken from a time turner. She opened the vial and removed three grains of the sand, bottling the rest up and returning it to the box. Taking the three grains of sand and her blood, she took both and mixed it with the concoction brewing in the tub. One final ingredient was needed, however.

Narcissa stripped nude, preparing herself for what lay ahead. She neatly folded her elegant robes and warded the lab multiple times over before she raised the wand to her temple. Retracting every single memory except for one, the silvery substance poured from the connection between Narcissa's temple and wand.

As the memories hit the substance, it flashed and transformed to a clear liquid emitting a soft golden glow. Narcissa dropped the wand as the memories finished flowing into the tub and recognized the only memory she had left: a thought. Curious, she accessed that thought.

 _Get into the tub and submerge yourself._

Lacking any sort of caution, as they had all been in the memories poured into the potion, she willingly entered the tub before ducking herself under the liquid. As soon as she was completely submerged, the liquid turned into a silvery color. She would not emerge for 24 minutes. When the surface finally broke, it revealed a fifteen-year-old Narcissa Malfoy with a grin on her face. It had worked. She bent down to grab her wand to release the wards and it sputtered a few sparks, but did not cooperate. Frowning, she pondered the dilemma presented before her and came to the conclusion rather quickly. The bath had altered her magical signature, as a means of keeping her identity a secret. Magic worked not just on intention, but the will of one channeling it.

Magic had sensed that Narcissa did not wish for her identity to be discovered, as the physical de-aging was not temporary. It would be rather suspicious for a teenager to be detected as Narcissa Malfoy. So magic, sensing Narcissa's wishes, had intervened and complemented the bath. Narcissa was grateful, however, that she retained her memories. It was expected, yes, but she knew there was a risk she would only retain the memories of her fifteen-year-old self. That would not have helped her in any way.

She clothed herself in the silk robes she'd worn before, which were just a bit too big for her, and made her way to a cabinet where she had stashed a number of wands: just in case something like this had happened. Narcissa Malfoy was a planner, able to discern almost any possible outcome when it came to a decision. She managed to find herself a wand that agreed with her and cast the spells to lower the wards. She vanished the now useless bath in the tub before exiting the lab, bumping into Draco.

"Watch where you're going, Electra!" He spat.

Narcissa smiled, happy to see that the spells worked properly. As far as everyone knew, she was Electra Malfoy, daughter of Lucius and the deceased Narcissa Malfoy, who so tragically died giving birth to her son, Draco.

"Apologies, little brother. You should go bathe, I just finished one and it was rather satisfying." Electra replied with a smug expression.

 _I'm coming for you, Harry Potter.  
_

* * *

 **A/N:** I lied, kinda. Small note. If you have questions, feel free to ask. If enough people ask, I'll incorporate it into the story. Otherwise, I'll just reply directly via AN. Obviously, I'm won't answer completely if it'll spoil the story. Thanks, everyone! -NeoR EDIT: tweaked the word 'compliment' to 'complement' as necessary. Side note: Anyone else ever find it odd that Narcissa isn't named after a star, while Andromeda, Sirius, Regulus, Orion, Cygnus, and even Scorpius (though he's Draco's brat) were? Plus, they all typically have dark hair while she's this blondie? I always thought she would be revealed as a half-sister to Andromeda and Bellatrix, not really a Black. Sounds like a good idea for a FanFic, though. Maybe one already exists?


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Hello, readers. I've recently re-read my section involving Narcissa/Electra and I'm starting to think it was garbage. Since that was most of the chapter, I'm inclined to think almost all of it was garbage. Hermione's letter is, in my opinion, alright for her character but still not perfect. Here's the next chapter. I hope it's better than the last one (which I might just re-write and upload). Again, I apologize for that.

* * *

When Harry woke on his fourteenth birthday, it was to find Sirius Black sitting on the only chair in the room. Harry did not notice the small stack of presents by Hedwig's cage, nor did he notice the regal owl sitting next to the snowy owl. With a smile, Harry threw himself out of bed and into his Godfather's arms. Sirius returned the hug with a long-forgotten grin.

"Hey, kiddo. Happy birthday."

Releasing Sirius from his grasp, Harry stepped back and sat on the edge of the bed. He felt a series of emotions, ranging from happiness and excitement to worry and fear. While he was happy Sirius was here, he was concerned that Sirius would be caught.

"Sirius! What are you doing here?! Not that I'm not grateful, but you could be caught!"

"Relax, pup. Nobody's going to find me. Dumbledore has some people polyjuiced to look like me and has them making appearances across Europe. Mind you, this was my appearance brought to you by the Azkaban Agency. Nobody would think to see me like this." He gestured to himself.

Now that Harry noticed, he wondered how he even recognized Sirius based on his appearance. Sirius had shaved his straggly beard off, as well as cut his long hair to just a few inches. He was also wearing…makeup? Sirius saw the question on his godson's face:

"Yeah, it's makeup. It's gonna take a while for my face not to look like a dementor's backside, so this was the best solution. Dumbledore's been sending me potions to alleviate the effects from my vacation, but he doesn't want to overload my system. As for the hair? Yeah, 12 years of no haircuts made me desperate to just get rid of it all. That's how everyone is polyjuiced: decided to make my hair useful. Haven't been that lately. Speaking of, when's the last time YOU got a haircut, pup?"

Harry grinned, it _was_ getting pretty long.

"Uh, probably second year. It's been a while."

"Well, go get ready. I've got a whole day planned for you: it's about time I make up for all that time I missed!"

Harry looked abashed,

"It's fine, Sirius, really. You don't have to do all this."

"Now, you listen here, Harry Potter: I. Am. Your. Godfather. That means I'm supposed to take care of you. Normally, that would entail me taking you away from this place, but the Ministry would know in an instant and that's no good. You'd probably get placed with Andi, which isn't bad, but better not to risk you getting taken by some death eater."

"Death Eater?"

"Sorry, I forgot. Death Eaters are those who followed Voldemort, wore his mark. I'll give you a book on it later: I noticed you read a lot." Sirius joked, gesturing to the stacks of books around the bedroom.

"Yeah, well, I've got a name to live up to, don't I? Imagine what people would say if the Boy-Who-Lived failed all his classes." Harry joked back.

Sirius laughed, before shooing Harry towards the bathroom. Harry gave him a look of confusion.

"I had a talk with your family last night. They're all out of town for the next few days. Don't know how they gave in so quickly, I didn't even have to threaten them!"

Harry faintly smiled, before going to take a shower. Today was going to be the best birthday ever.

While his godson went to get ready for the day ahead, Sirius sagged in the chair. This was harder than he thought. His stint in Azkaban did a number on him, even as an Animagus. He was lucky, yes, that he managed to retain his sanity for all these years, but _damn_ was it hard to smile like it hadn't happened. He was even seeing a muggle therapist to just _talk_ about things. They called it a comorbidity of Depression and Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. They told him it'll take time to heal, but he didn't _have_ time! Bagnold and Crouch made sure of that when they tossed him into that cell without a trial, without an investigation!

Sirius noticed a few pencils on the desk were floating, and immediately began taking deep breaths to relax. He had some bouts of accidental magic since he escaped from Azkaban, usually when he was angry or anxious. He berated himself: he had to pull himself together. He couldn't afford to have Harry see him like this. He sighed in relief when everything dropped. He heard the water shut off in the bathroom and got up.

"Hey, Harry, I'm gonna go downstairs and whip up a couple of sandwiches for a snack. Get dressed and, if you hurry, you can open a present or two!"

He heard a muffled 'okay!' through the door and made his way downstairs.

* * *

"Hey, Harry, I'm gonna go downstairs and whip up a couple of sandwiches for a snack. Get dressed and, if you hurry, you can open a present or two!"

Harry, who currently had a towel over his head, shouted okay and hurried to dry off. Afterwards, he crossed over to his bedroom to get dressed. Slipping on some of his nicer clothes, he went over to the desk to see a stack of envelopes and an open letter. Harry grabbed the open letter and quickly scanned its contents:

 _Mr. Black,_

 _You have our permission and we will expect you no sooner than 4 in the evening on July 31st._

 _Thank you,_

 _M.G._

Putting the letter back where he found it, he earned a reproachful hoot from the regal owl who, Harry figured, belonged to Sirius. Harry quickly sorted through the envelopes, all of which were addressed to Harry. He frowned when he didn't see Hermione's handwriting on any of them. He checked again, going through the list of people. Ron, Oliver, Katie, Fred, George, Alicia, Angelina, Neville, Hagrid, Lupin, _even Ginny_ wrote to him! He frowned, thinking Hermione must have been too busy to write. He figured as much when Hedwig returned from giving Hermione that book without so much as a thank you letter. Tossing the stack of letters onto the desk, he sat down on the bed and fell backwards. He felt a wave of depression that his closest friend didn't even wish him a happy birthday.

"Harry, what's wrong?"

Harry looked to the doorway where Sirius was standing, a bag of wrapped sandwiches in his hand. He closed his eyes and returned to looking at the ceiling.

"Hermione didn't write me a happy birthday. It's stupid, I know. She's probably just busy or something."

Harry felt a weight on the bed and saw his godfather sitting by him. Sirius reached a hand out and pulled Harry back to the upright position before wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

"Harry, this is why I wanted you to open your letters and presents tonight rather than first thing in the morning. I don't want you thinking she's too busy for you or that she doesn't care about you. Go on, pick a letter or two and we'll go celebrate your birthday. I bet by the time we get back, you'll have gotten something from Hermione."

Harry shrugged halfheartedly, but went and got the letters from Ron and Lupin. He opened Ron's first.

 _HARRY!_

 _Happy Birthday, mate! I talked to Dad and he said he's definitely getting the tickets for the World Cup! You'll be staying with us for the Cup and Mum and Dad will take us to 9 and ¾. Fred, George, Ginny and I chipped in together to get you a present, I hope you don't mind that it's used, the new ones are ridiculously overpriced, especially this year. Anyway, mate, have a good birthday and we'll see you in a couple weeks._

 _Ron_

Harry laughed at how obsessed Ron was, but felt overjoyed to know he was going to the Quidditch World Cup! Hell, he was going to the Weasleys'! He looked over to the stack of presents and saw, sure enough, there was present signed by the four youngest Weasleys. He figured he'd open it tonight like Sirius suggested and opened his (rather thick) letter from Remus.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I wanted to wish you a happy birthday and to thank you, again, for your kind words on the last day of term. Hopefully, you've had a good time with Sirius today: you deserve it. I'm sorry I couldn't be there, too, but I got a gig as a teacher at Durmstrang for the year. It's just for the year to cover the absence of some of the staff, but it's better than nothing. Anyway, I wanted to return the Map to you. I meant to do it before you left, but I hadn't finished the upgrades I wanted on it. It's taken far too long. I think you'll find it a lot better than before._

 _Again, Happy Birthday._

 _Yours,_

 _Remus Lupin._

Harry removed the Marauder's Map from the envelope (explaining the thickness) and opened it.

"I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

The Map activated, but there was a different greeting than before.

 _ **Messrs. Moony, Padfoot and Prongs  
Purveyors of Aids to Magical Mischief-Makers  
are proud to present  
THE MARAUDER'S MAP v2.0  
**_  
The ink faded to show the map of Hogwarts, as usual, but in far better detail than the previous one. Furthermore, there was a message on it addressed to Harry.

 _Harry, I've upgraded the map to do a few more things. After the Pettigrew incident, the map can now detect animagi and will tell you if they are transformed or not. You can test McGonagall for this. Sadly, it does not tell you their form. So be careful! Not only that, but it will tell you if anyone is using Polyjuice (like you guys did in second year. Yes, I know.). Finally, you can track previous movements of people. Just tap the map, say the name of the person, and you can see everywhere they've been on the map in the last week. You can control how fast the movements, too. I hope you enjoy what I've added (and who I removed)._

Sirius, who had been reading this over Harry's shoulder, barked a laugh at the new upgrades.

"Well, pup, that Map may be one of the best presents you've ever gotten, but it doesn't even come close to what I've got planned for today. C'mon, you can stalk everyone later!" he joked.

Harry tapped the map, muttering 'Mischief Managed' before folding it back up and placing it securely below the floorboard under his bed. Brushing the dust off his knees, he followed Sirius to the kitchen.

"Sirius, what about breakfast? No offense, but I'm pretty hungry."

"I got that all figured out, pup. Grab ahold of my arm and, whatever you do, don't let go until I tell you. Got your wand?"

Harry nodded before firmly grabbing his godfather's arm.

"I'm going to do something called Side-along apparition, Harry. It's a form of transportation. When I tell you to, breathe in deeply and hold that breath. Now."

Harry breathed in before he felt a squeezing sensation on his body. He felt as if he were being drawn through a straw before the pressure immediately vanished. He looked at Sirius.

"You can breathe out now. It's not as bad if you hold your breath. A lot of people throw up because of that. Good job."

Harry released the breath he had been holding and looked around. They were in some restaurant and he could smell French toast. The two of them sat down where they ordered a number of different breakfast foods. Harry smiled and noted, for the first time that morning, that Marv had been completely absent.

 **A/N:** Hopefully this wasn't as bad as the last chapter. Again, I apologize for that, but I'm going to leave it. If I took down everything I wasn't satisfied with, there'd never be anything to read. Leave your thoughts, if you feel like it. And you readers have a say in who Harry dates and whatnot, just so you all know. I'm hinting at a Harry/Hermione right now because Hermione is really the only witch that Harry talks to. I've introduced Narcissa/Electra last chapter as another factor in the plot, but _how_ she fits is still up to you all. I'll probably post another chapter sometime next weekend. Next chapter will cover the rest of the birthday, with the chapter after that time skipping to the Weasleys'. Goodbye – NeoR


	8. Chapter 8

Following their breakfast, Sirius took Harry to a number of different shops looking at various gadgets and gizmos, but neither really felt the need to own any. The only noteworthy thing in Harry's mind was a glass bulb with lightning inside of it that would strike when he touched the glass. Sirius laughed and said he'd make one for Harry when he got the chance, but it would do a lot more than some 'silly lightning strikes'. Checking his pocket watch, Sirius noted the hour hand was just passing twelve. Grabbing Harry's shoulder, the two quickly apparated to a place Harry quickly recognized.

"Sirius? What are we doing here?" He asked, looking around the cottage he briefly stayed at before Hagrid rescued him from the Dursleys. He felt an odd blend of confusion and familiarity as the cottage was decorated with a number of wizarding items. Photographs of his father and Godfather decorated the mantelpiece above the fire. There was even a copy of the wedding photo Harry had!

"Well, I've only got access to the one Black property – Grimmauld Place. I grew up there and hated it, so I bought this place after you mentioned it. It's secure and not as dreadful as when you stayed here. I can't believe those assholes made you sleep on the floor! You promise they're treating you alright?" Sirius asked. Harry had been telling Sirius via owl post about his life, which brought up more concerns with each letter Sirius received. It was amazing how _normal_ Harry was despite the abuse from his family!

"Oh, err, yeah, they're treating me pretty well now. I mean, they're pretty much leaving me alone which is what I want. Besides, they've never touched me; they wouldn't dare." Harry laughed, earning an odd glance from his godfather.

"Anyway, this is home! It's not much, but I'd prefer the Shack to Grimmauld. I like it: my own island. Hopefully you can visit during the summers: it's only an hour's drive from Privet Drive."

"What? But Uncle Vernon drove for _hours_!" Harry shouted in disbelief.

Sirius grinned, cocking an eyebrow at Harry.

"Yes, but didn't you also tell me that he kept turning and doubling back, weaving through streets?"

Harry looked down, feeling somewhat stupid that he forgot that point. He heard a familiar laugh that didn't belong to Sirius: Marv had made himself known. The worse part was that Marv was currently wearing a party hat, _just_ a party hat.

"Surprise, bitch! You thought I wouldn't be here to celebrate our birthday!? Nice of Black to wear his happy mask today. It's the least he can do, considering he got himself _caught_ for something he didn't do! Shame about the Grange, but I'm sure you can guilt trip her into blowing us!"

Harry shot a glare at Marv, who was standing behind Sirius. Sirius mistakenly thought the glare was for him, as he couldn't see Marv. Sirius' face fell.

"Oh, hey, I'm sorry kiddo. I didn't mean anything by it, just a little teasing is all. I know I'm not being the best company right now, but we were having fun, right?"

Harry frowned to himself, he didn't mean to make Sirius upset. Everything was going great until Marv had to show himself. He wrapped Sirius in a hug, which felt awkward because he didn't really have that much experience when it came to hugs. He obviously did a decent job because Sirius returned the hug.

"Sirius, it wasn't you. I just thought back to how they treated me back then. We're having a _great_ day, I swear. You're fine, I'm fine: everything's fine! Why don't we just relax here for a little while, just hang out? But why don't we stop hugging first? It's starting to get a little weird." Both of them laughed.

After the two ate lunch, Harry took a nap in a rather warm leather chair. It was a quarter till 4 that he found himself being shaken awake by Sirius.

"Rise and shine, Harry. We got someplace to be and I don't think you'll want to miss this. While you were sleeping, I bought some clothes for you. Go put them on and be here in five minutes, you might wanna brush your teeth, too. You've got worse breath than I have as Padfoot!"

Harry stuck his tongue out at his godfather before giving a grin and rushing to go brush his teeth and change into the clothes that Sirius threw at him. He admired the clothes that were far nicer than anything back in his closet at home, but noted that they weren't ridiculously fancy. He smiled in relief that it wasn't a polo shirt. Everyone but him seemed to like them, but he thought they were just silly. Why bother having a nice collar if you're going to have short sleeves? It just didn't make sense to him. He much preferred long-sleeved, button-down shirts, like the dark blue one Sirius had bought for him.

"Hmm. Fresh breath, nice clothes, attention to hygiene….Harry, you're gonna be meeting a girl! Birthday sex! Woohoo!" Marv commented as Harry admired how the clothes fit him in the mirror. Harry saw himself blush at Marv's words, feeling rather embarrassed and awkward about the situation.

"Do you really think Sirius would set me up on a date on my _birthday?_ And this is the only warning I'm going to give you: shut the fuck up today. I don't mind your comments when it's just us or people I don't give a shit about, but keep your mouth shut when I'm around people I like. Keep your comments to a minimum, don't act like an idiot. If someone finds out about you, we're both done for. So _SHUT. UP!_ " Harry mentally shouted.

Marv shot him a pained grin before fading from Harry's view. Harry's shoulders sagged with relief. He made his way downstairs where he saw Sirius in a well-tailored outfit that hid just how emaciated he was from his time in Azkaban. Harry made his way over to Sirius where he was looking at his pocket watch again. When the minute hand passed the twelve, he offered his arm to Harry. Harry grabbed ahold of the proffered arm and felt the tell-tale signs of apparition. He was already getting acclimated to it.

* * *

He found himself in a wealthier muggle neighborhood. It appeared to be a gated community with spacious yards and tall trees. He didn't recall knowing anyone who lived in such a fancy place like this, but he knew that his relatives would be plenty jealous. He followed Sirius down the well-kept sidewalk to a house numbered 29. He and Sirius made their way to the rose-colored door where Sirius checked the pocket watch once more before ringing the doorbell.

A curly-haired, light-skinned man in a pale-blue cardigan answered the door. He looked at Sirius first with a curious expression, before lowering his glance to meet Harry's eyes. Harry stepped back in shock: the eyes were strikingly familiar. He had a suspicion of who this man was, but he didn't want to mistakenly assume. The middle-aged man returned his gaze back to Sirius before addressing him.

"Mister Black, I presume? Monica mentioned you would be coming to collect our daughter for a few hours. Thank heavens, because her excitement has been driving us both up the wall. She hasn't stopped talking about it since we got back. The only time she quiets down for more than an hour is when she's got her nose in that book!"

Sirius grinned, picking up the light humor the man was displaying. Harry relaxed, thinking at first this man was genuinely complaining. The man must have noticed Harry's posture change as he turned to Harry once more.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Mister Potter. My name is Wendell Granger. My daughter has spoken, written, and I think even _sung_ about you. It's a pleasure to meet her closest friend." Wendell extended a hand, but was prevented by a blur screaming "Harry!", that tackled the young wizard.

Harry, who did not expect to be tackled as part of a handshake, fell to the ground with something on top of him: _a very nice feeling something_ , he thought. He was about to greet the young witch who was currently laying on top of him, but his brain shut down as he felt a pair of lips assault his cheeks in various pecks.

"Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You, Thank You!" Each 'thank you' was followed with another peck. Harry's face turned a crimson red before he heard another female voice.

"Hermione Jean Granger, get off him this instant!" There was an 'eep!' as Harry felt the comfortable weight of his best friend leave him. Despite what felt like an hour, only a few seconds had gone by from being tackled to the ground to Hermione being pulled off him. Harry readjusted his glasses, which were knocked astray from the assault, and saw his friend was blushing even more than he was. She was currently held firmly by a wavy-haired brunette who appeared to be in her late thirties. Harry glanced over to his Godfather and saw the two men fighting back laughter. Sirius was having more trouble than Wendell holding back the laughs, as evident by the tears streaming down his face.

Harry, deciding to add some humor and embarrass his friend even more, muttered,

"Geez, Hermione. Do you greet Madam Pince that way every time the library gets a new book?"

Hermione proved she still had some blushing to do, as evidenced by her face getting even redder. Harry wondered to himself if he should get her any more books. _Definitely yes_ , he decided.

"Sorry, Harry! I just never expected you to get that book for me! It must have been so expensive, getting a limited edition like that!" Hermione explained, her face still beet red.

Sirius helped his godson up and brushed a bit of dirt off. Surreptitiously, he used a handkerchief to wipe the tears from his face. Harry coughed, not realizing he bought the limited edition version. He could have sworn he requested the regular version. A brief whisper came from the back of his mind: _You're Welcome_.

"It's nothing, Hermione. It's a good read, don't you think? I might have to use some of those charms, could be useful." _That's right, kiddo, play it cool. She's eating this up,_ Marv intoned.

"Why don't we all come inside? We're got the air running, after all." The woman, who Harry surmised to be Monica, interrupted smoothly. Before anyone could say anything, she was already gently pushing Hermione inside with her quickly following. Harry briefly took note of how pleasant he found Hermione's backside to be. He only shot a glance, knowing that her father was just behind him.

"An excellent idea, Mrs. Granger." Sirius replied, nudging Harry to enter the house. Wendell entered last, closing the door behind him.

"Shoes off, if you please, Gentlemen."

Sirius and Harry quickly obliged the request and followed Wendell Granger into the kitchen where Hermione and Monica were seated. It appeared that Monica had a few choice words with her daughter, judging from how Hermione looked anywhere but at her mother. Harry admired the fine oak table that held what he knew to be expensive dinnerware. Crystal glasses and elegant china decorated the table, with silver utensils organized neatly alongside them. Harry was slightly taken aback at his friend's wealth, but realized that the two never really talked about money. Of the trio, Ron was the only person to ever mention money and it was to complain about how his family didn't have any.

"So, Mister Potter, I believe you owe me a handshake, correct?" Wendell spoke, offering his hand once more. Harry smiled, noticing how the man was still trying to fight back a laugh. He shook the man's hand with a firm, but not too much so, grip that surprised the older man.

"Happy Birthday, young man. That's quite a grip you have there."

"Thank you, sir, on both counts. I suppose the grip comes from holding onto a broomstick at thousands of yards in the air. Not something you want to fall off of."

"I should think so! Our Hermione here has told us about your game, Quidditch, was it? Fascinating game, really. Like a sort of blend between polo and rugby, but in the air. I wish we could see a game, but alas, the World Cup repels muggles like us. I suppose you'll be joining Hermione in attending it with your other friend, Wesley?"

" _Weasley_ , Dad, and of course Harry is! It's exceedingly rare to host the World Cup in England, especially as it works like the muggle Olympics! Travels around every four years, do you really think Harry's going to miss it?"

"Yes. Weasley, of course. I've yet to meet the boy. And please watch your tone, dear, I'm asking to be polite. You don't need to be rude."

"Sorry, Dad."

Harry watched the conversation between daughter and father with interest, curious to see how other families interacted. Of the two he'd previously seen, one was a dysfunctional lot of rude, obsessive gossips known as his relatives and the other was simply a large, but unfortunate, magical family. Sirius gave a slight cough.

"Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, but we must be going soon. It starts in thirty minutes."

Monica quickly stood from the table, rushing off into the kitchen muttering something about her purse. Hermione's eyes widened before she shot upstairs to, presumably, her bedroom. Wendell laughed.

"Harry, you might want to use the bathroom. Down the hall, second door on the right."

"I don't need to go, though." Harry replied, confused.

"That may be the case, but, and I'm sure you'll agree with me, I don't think you want to show up in public with lipstick all over your face." Wendell chuckled.

Said lipstick became even more apparent as the blood drained from the face of a mortified Harry. Quickly, he shot down the hall and into the bathroom where Sirius and Wendell could hear the tap running. The only thought going through Harry's head at that time was _since when did Hermione wear lipstick?!  
_

* * *

It was a thoroughly clean-faced Harry Potter that returned to the dining room where Hermione and Sirius were waiting for him. Unable to meet Hermione's eyes, he decided to fall back on humor to hide his embarrassment.

"Hermione, please limit the area in which you kiss me. I had to scrub my face raw to get it all off!" He stuck his tongue out at her, childishly.

Hermione, refusing to be embarrassed any more, shot back a witty remark,

"Why, Harry, I'll just have to focus on those lips of yours next time." She winked, holding her composure for only a few moments before bursting out into laughter. The other two quickly fell into laughter as well, before Sirius sobered himself up.

"Come along, children. We're going on an adventure." Harry's godfather walked towards the door where Wendell and Monica awaited them, surprising Harry in that they weren't dressed to go out.

"You're not joining us?" Harry asked, looking back and forth between Hermione's parents.

"Nope, I trust Mister Black here to take care of our daughter. And, if that isn't enough, I trust _you_ to take care of her as well, if the stories she's told about you are to be believed. Besides, it's just a ten-minute drive down the road. No big deal. Have fun, kids!"

The three exited the house and Sirius, making sure nobody was looking, withdrew a small toy car from his pocket. He sat it on the ground and, after checking the surroundings once more, waved his wand at the car. It grew to the size of the BMW sitting next to it. Sirius quickly got behind the wheel and waited for the two children to get into the back seat. Sirius caught Harry's eye in the rearview mirror and grinned:

"Never have to worry about finding a parking spot with this thing."

Wendell Granger was correct about the drive being only ten minutes, leaving the three to find themselves outside a movie theater. Sirius pulled out a wad of muggle money and handed it to Harry.

"Go on, you two. See whatever movie you'd like. I'll be back here in two hours. Keep an eye out, stick together. You both have your wands?" The two teenagers nodded, "Good. Only use them if you absolutely _have to_. Until then, have fun!"

"Wait, you're not coming with us?" Harry asked.

"Nope, I've got some stuff to take care of. Besides, I don't think you'll want me around when you've got such a lovely witch to keep you company." Sirius teased, laughing at the blush that was rising on both of the teens' faces.

Harry groaned as Hermione insisted on the two of them seeing _The Lion King_. He was much rather wanting to see _Speed_ but, despite his protests, he found himself sitting next to a delighted bushy-haired witch as the opening credits to the Disney film began. He was still trying to figure out how he lost the argument that it was _his_ birthday, but decided it didn't really matter. He sucked it up and tried his best to enjoy the film, despite the feeling that he was too old for it. It's not like he had much opportunity to watch movies in the past, anyway. Truthfully, he was holding out for another kiss from Hermione: he found that he enjoyed them quite a bit.

The movie wasn't all bad, he had to admit. He felt that the film could have done without the singing, but it _was_ a children's movie. He felt awkward whenever the characters started singing; the songs didn't seem to progress the story at all and the characters seemed to act as if they all didn't just break out into song. Plus, Harry just didn't know what to do during those parts. Was he supposed to tap his foot to the beat, hum along, et cetera? He'd never felt this awkward before, and that was including his interactions with Lockhart.

Hermione seemed to like it, however, and he really enjoyed her smile. He noticed just the faintest traces of makeup on her that only accentuated her features, but that smile was all her. He didn't mind that her front teeth were a little larger than the other ones. He'd read from a magazine during one of Dudley's visits to the dentist that most people had that problem and they typically worked themselves out as the person grew up. Marv had kept rather quiet during the film, only making the occasional cough that sounded a lot like "Hamlet!". Harry had no idea what that was supposed to mean.

When the two left exited the theater, they found Sirius leaning against his car smirking. As soon as Harry approached, Sirius grabbed the boy's face and intensely scanned his face. After a minute or two had awkwardly gone by, he released his godson and laughed.

"Looks like you got all the lipstick off, this time, kiddo. Good job."

Harry, at this point, felt a tinge of annoyance at his godfather's antics. He felt annoyed that everyone seemed to want him and Hermione to snog their hearts out. He felt annoyed that Marv hadn't spoken up. He felt annoyed that Hermione kept playing these games with him. Finally, he felt annoyed that he was annoyed at all of this. In that bout of annoyance, Harry felt a shift himself and suddenly he was in Marv's mindscape, as he called it. Marv was sitting on a high-backed chair that looked to be made of some dragon's hide.

"So, we meet again. Hormones are a bitch, aren't they? Bet you're pretty angry right now. Ah, mood swings. I can almost _taste_ the angst in the air. Can't you? It's just begging to be manipulated. Sit down, boy."

Harry found himself moving to the chair before he could stop himself. Sitting down, chains quickly secured the teenager to the chair. Harry felt a moment of panic before a calming sensation came over him.

"You are going to sit there and _listen_ to me, Harry Potter. Despite what you know of my past, despite my actions and comments this past summer, you need to listen – _Don't you roll your eyes at me!"_

Harry, who had rolled his eyes at the comment that had to listen to the voice in his head, felt agonizing pain shoot through his body. Were it not for the restrains, he probably would have been trashing on the floor. He didn't know it yet, but he had just experienced his first, but not the last, time under the Cruciatus Curse. The pain stopped as quickly as it came, but Harry still felt the tremors.

"I bet you didn't like that, did you? No, it's quite painful. Keep this act up and I'll put it on you every chance I get, boy. Now, shut the fuck up and listen to me you arrogant fuck. I'm trying to teach you something."

When Harry just nodded, Marv continued. Harry noted that Marv looked a bit off at the moment. Odd.

"Now," Marv continued, "When I was your age, I, too, felt the rush of hormones and urges that every teenage boy gets. I had crushes, girlfriends, even a fiancée at one point. I _know_ what you're going through. I _understand._ I know the thoughts you've been having about Hermione and I need to intercede because, despite what you may think, _I do care about what happens to us._ Now, I'm going to ask you a question and I'd like you to think about your answer before speaking. Understood? If you disobey, I'll make you hurt again. Nod your head if you understand."

Harry nodded, feeling as if he was going to be sick.

"Okay, here it is. _Do you actually have romantic feelings towards Hermione, or are you just projecting to whatever female is available? In this case, Hermione is the_ only _female available._ "

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but caught the warning glance in Marv's eyes. He closed his jaw and thought about what he was asked. He wanted to say _yes, of course I have feelings for Hermione._ But then he caught himself. Maybe Marv was right. He was a teenage boy who had hormones flooding his system like crazy. Changes were happening (some in particular) at a rapid rate and he wasn't sure. Did he actually have feelings for Hermione? Perhaps not. Maybe, for sure, but was it really only just because she was the only appropriate female in his life that didn't make him feel like shit about himself (minus the nagging lectures about studying and classes, which he _did_ overall appreciate the concern behind)?

He then thought about Hermione's perspective, all the way from when they first became friends. Here was a girl who was eager to join a society, a secret society, to which she felt she belonged. She wanted to make friends like her: magic users. She wanted to live up to the ridiculously high expectations she put on herself because why would anyone dislike a talented witch? So she came to a school for girls and boys like her, eager to learn magic, impress the teachers, and make friends. That first year, people were brutal to her. Ron, especially. Harry didn't help much, either. Then, when Ron brutally mentioned how she didn't have any friends, she ran off to cry. She cried that entire evening on Halloween. The first Halloween, in fact, away from her parents who probably didn't ever let her eat too much candy and sugary foods. She wanted to belong and she was ostracized for it.

So when that troll came along, who knows what was going through her head. Maybe she wanted to leave Hogwarts and go to a different school. Maybe she wanted to try again with other people, who knows? What Harry _did_ know, however, is that he came along and saved her from what would have certainly been death. Ron helped, of course. The trio became friends. The first students in this school to accept her. Maybe she felt she owed something to them. Maybe not. She'd certainly mellowed out a bit over the years, especially after the Basilisk incident. She's made more friends now, according to her, but were they as close as He, Hermione, and Ron were? He doubted that very much. There are bonds that form, not any magical bonds or such like that, but bonds of friendship that form so strong a connection after living through life-threatening circumstances together. They were definitely close.

The question, then, was if Hermione liked Harry? As a friend, definitely. She cared for him, certainly. But in what capacity? He, who had grown up never knowing love, was so desperate for it. Could it be that he was seeing into things that weren't really there? Were the kisses he received, the words he read, all done from a familial viewpoint? He truly didn't know. He didn't know who to ask. Ron couldn't answer, because the relationship between him and his sister was not a close one. At least, not in the sense Harry could imagine. He couldn't ask Sirius, as he only had a brother. Maybe he could talk about how his cousins treated him. Marv had been an only child, but he seemed to have insight.

"Marv? I'm still thinking about what you asked me. Can I ask you some questions?"

"First, it's _May I_ ask you some questions. Secondly, of course you can."

"How can you tell the motives behind an action? For instance, Hermione's kisses. Now they were just pecks on the cheek, so that's why I'm giving this thought. It could be meaningless. She kisses her father on the cheek, maybe other members of her family as well."

"Good, I'm glad you're thinking about this. It shows you can be intelligent when you need to be and that you will improve on making the _right decision_ in future conflicts. She's hugged you, kissed you, yes. Did she make any effort to try and hold your hand during the movie? No. That could be amounted to nerves, or expecting you to make the first move. She's made some comments that could be construed as flirtatious, yes, but it could be meaningless. It could be more teasing than anything else. Some gals like to flirt for the fun of it, not caring who they do it to. It can give off the wrong message and, if they do it to the wrong person, cause a whole lot of trouble.

"So, how to tell the motives behind an action? Some would say to simply _ask_ the person who committed those actions. Not a bad approach, very direct. The thing is, though, some people don't know the actual _why_ behind their actions. They can conjecture, make excuses, but it's hard to know. One method is to use Legilimancy to find out, as you can search their mind deeper than they consciously can. It's too advanced for you right now, and I'm not going to do it for you. It's bad enough that I'm in your head.

"I wish I could give you a definite answer. If there was one, there would be so much less confusion in the world. People would _know_ if other people had romantic feelings towards them. They would _know_ if they were being manipulated. Sadly, this isn't the case. In your situation, I suppose it doesn't really matter."

"What? Why not?" Harry asked, surprised at the last statement.

"Because," Marv continued, "it only influences whether or not she has feelings for you. You need to know something, Harry, that I'm sure nobody has ever told you. Many children are never told this and it confuses them. Just because someone loves you, or likes you, does not mean you have to reciprocate that to them. There is nothing wrong with not loving someone in return. You are not obligated to feel bad. Some may say that you should feel bad, but don't feel bad that you don't love them in return. If you must feel bad, do so because you understand their situation. That you don't have the feelings to reciprocate what they want. In the long run, they probably don't have as deep emotions as they think. I, too, know that pain. You think you love a person, you'd be willing to bet your life on it. But unless they love you, that you know them in a romantic matter, you cannot have those romantic feelings for someone. You don't know romantic love unless you have a romantic connection with that person _that goes both ways_.

"It's a tough pill to swallow and I'll doubt you'll agree with me. It's something you learn over time. Something you'll realize when those you think you love do not love you in return. As time goes on, you'll learn that you only had an infatuation with that person. The best way of seeing it is when you move on. So, returning to my initial statement, whether Hermione likes you in that way does not matter because it doesn't affect whether you have those feelings for her. So go back to thinking."

Harry absorbed the information Marv gave him. In a way, it did make sense. Harry sat there and thought for what felt like ages before coming to a conclusion.

"I have my answer, Marv. I don't think I actually have romantic feelings for Hermione. There is a possibility for those feelings, yes, but I don't think I actually have the feelings for _her_. She's been the only female constant in my life that hasn't abused me, betrayed me, or hurt me. The Firebolt thing upset me, yes, but I can see it was done out of concern. I think I have more of a general yearning to express these emotions and needs and I'm using Hermione as she's the only one available. She may have feelings towards me, but it may certainly be the same case for her. I'm available whereas other guys aren't as close. That being said, however, I'm willing to see if it can go further than what it is right now."

"Well done, Harry. That was very well thought out. What you've been doing is called _introspection_ and it's a vital part to understanding one's self. By understanding one's self, you will be able to successfully practice Occulumency. I hope to have you somewhat proficient before school starts, so continue your introspection into other aspects of your life. Start with why, work from there. It may not be accurate, but you'll learn more over time. Be critical of your evaluation, be realistic. We all have our faults. Now that you know just where you stand on your feelings, may I make a suggestion?"

"Of course, Marv."

"I suggest that, over the course of the next year or two, you interact with more females around your age. Learn about them, let them learn about you. You have only two friends that you actually know. You're fourteen and have lived a lonely life. You don't have to. Just interact with people. Yes, many will just want you for your fame. Use them, then toss them aside. Don't feel bad about it because they're certainly planning to do the same to you. But you can use your fame. Almost anyone would be willing to sit down with you to talk. Don't assume things about people. Learn about them. Make informed decisions before just tossing everyone into the same pile. Now, I think you should probably get back to the real world. Time hasn't progressed at all since you've came here. Sirius just teased you about getting all the lipstick off, implying you and Hermione kissed during the movie. Keep what I've told you in mind, otherwise I'll have to remind you."

Before Harry could speak, Harry found himself looking at Sirius once more. Harry smiled, but didn't blush. He made sure he could see Hermione's face in a reflection.

"Nah, Sirius. No lipstick. I think Hermione was just overenthusiastic earlier. No romance, sorry."

Sirius got a puzzled look on his face at his Godson's words. What happened in the movie theater? He glanced over at Hermione who, surprisingly, didn't have a hurt look on her face. Harry, using the reflection, saw the same lack of hurt and came to the conclusion she didn't have as deep feelings as he thought. Harry opened the door for Hermione, who politely thanked him, and both entered the car. Sirius, still dumbfounded, slowly got back into the car and the three rode back to the Granger Residence.

* * *

 **A/N:** Sorry for the delay, folks. As a means of making it up to you all, enjoy this longer than usual chapter. Thank you to all of those who have favorited and followed my story, I appreciate the support. I know there may be some disagreements with what I've just done, halting the building relationship between Harry and Hermione, but I felt it needed to be done as a plot device. Another time skip is coming in the next chapter (which I have no clue when I'll put it up, sorry.) that will have Harry going to the Burrow. Leave your thoughts if you want, but I doubt anyone will. Hopefully, I've reminded people that Marv isn't a goof all the time. The Marv in the mindscape was more of the Voldemort than usual. Until next time, have a good one. - NeoR


	9. Chapter 9

" _You arrogant brat! Have you learned nothing these last few weeks? Have my lessons_ _not_ _been – literally, I might add –_ drilled _into your incredibly inflated head?"_ The high, cold voice rang out, before pain shot through Harry's body. Harry, restrained by the chair once more, still thrashed about. He thanked whatever higher power there was that because this was all in his _head_ , he didn't ever get any real damage from the Cruciatus curse. He had already fell under Marv's Imperius twice since he arrived at the Weasley's a week ago. The first time had been when Harry refused to leave his room, preferring to sulk in the bedroom he shared with Ron. He had never felt such a presence in his head, telling him what to do. It was almost…relieving, to just follow someone else's command.

The second time…Harry shuddered as he remembered the previous day's command. He was playing a game of quidditch in the orchard with several of the Weasley's and Charlie was about to catch the enchanted walnut that worked as a snitch. He was going to let Charlie win, as it was just a game, but Marv had other plans. Harry had found himself ramming Charlie to throw him off course, which unfortunately led to Charlie colliding into a tree and falling through the branches to impact the ground with an audible _thud_. Charlie was fine, used to taking a beating from his handling of dragons, but Harry felt fear because he had hurt someone and he wasn't in control. This led to the current situation, where Marv was insistent on Harry getting some of the curse-breaker books from Bill.

Harry, sick of studying, had told Marv no, that he wanted to just enjoy the week before the World Cup.

"I'll do it after the World Cup! I've been studying and reading and brewing nearly every day for the entire summer, on top of chores! Would you just let me relax?!" Harry spat out, recovering quickly from the Cruciatus. He almost thought that he was becoming used to the pain, but that thought quickly left his mind as Marv stood from his dragon hide chair, his eyes glowing red ever so slightly.

" _No,_ boy¸ _you can't do it_ after _the World Cup. Why? Because there is no reason for William to remain here afterwards! What keeps him here is the Cup! Afterwards, he'll leave and the chance will be lost! Now do what you are told! Get the books! If you get the quickly enough, I_ may _allow you to relax for the days following your silly little sport. How foolish these pure-bloods are, gathering in such large numbers. So reliant on magic, on their ways, that they feel safe. Had they not learned during the second World War, when bombs were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki? Had they not realized that an entire magical community was killed? WE. ARE. NOT. SAFE!" Marv shouted, his voice echoing._

Harry, wisely, kept quiet. He learned more about Voldemort during these rants than at any other time. He was learning the real reasons behind why Lord Voldemort hated the muggle folk, why he had recruited the pure-bloods for his cause. He was disposing of those who would slow the progress of the magical community while, at the same time, lowering the number of dangerous muggles. Lord Voldemort was paving the way for those who sought progress in the magical world, sought to do away with the barbaric practices that revolted him when he was introduced to magic.

 _"Get the books, Potter. If you don't, I'll force you do something you'll have to live with for the rest of your existence. Which, might I remind you, will go on for as long as I exist. I'll make sure of it. Now go, don't disappoint me."_

Harry was forced from the elegant room that Marv occupied, removed from the depths of his mind, and returned to find himself sitting at the breakfast table where conversation continued from where it left off before Marv had summoned him. Swallowing the mouthful of toast that had been in his mouth, Harry took a sip of water before addressing Bill.

"So, Bill, what exactly does a curse-breaker do? When Ron told me about it, he didn't give me many details besides that you were working on tombs and the like in Egypt. I've been curious, but Hogwarts doesn't have any books about occupations, funnily enough."

Bill, relieved to be pulled from yet another conversation with his mother about a haircut, immediately and eagerly jumped into the conversation Harry offered.

"Well, Harry, it depends on what you're contracted to do and who you're working for. For me, as you probably know, I'm contracted by Gringotts. My job was to assist in breaking through wards, for the most part, but I also worked on – you guessed it – removing curses from valuable objects. The process is tricky as not only do you have to remove the curse, you have to know what curse it is without activating it. You have to be sure, 100%, that you removed _all_ of the curses, as sometimes they're hidden behind decoy curses – obvious curses that may lead us to become careless since we don't think there is another one hiding. Furthermore, you have to know containment protocol. Those aren't pretty." He trailed off, a faraway look in his eyes.

Harry, and Marv, were both interested in what Bill was saying, so he motioned for Bill to continue.

"Sorry, I was just thinking about Derek…first time out in the field. He had tripped over a fallen brick and reached out to grab himself – something anyone would do. Ended up grabbing a table and knocking a chalice off it. Egyptians used a lot of blood magic and this chalice had an exsanguination curse on it. Damn kid never stood a chance – drained dry in a matter of seconds" Bill spoke, noticing the rest of the family wasn't paying attention to his and Harry's conversation. "Oh, you get used to the sight after all the mummified corpses we uncover. Still, it's sad though. A year out of Hogwarts and gone, just like that."

Harry swallowed, nervously, picturing himself drained of all his blood. He took a sip of juice from his glass before speaking.

"So, what are the containment protocols?"

"Right, sorry. Pretty much, if a person gets cursed – you isolate the person from everyone else and, if you can, separate the object from the person. If you're lucky, the curse will stop and you can move in to try and save the person. You still have to work on removing the curse from the person as if he or she was the object. Which goes back to knowing what the curse is and if that was the only curse they were exposed to. Some curses are hidden, lying dormant until something triggers. For instance, some will only trigger if it is a full moon on a Wednesday. Others will trigger the next time you take a bath. It's a tricky business and those unfortunate few who haven't been treated yet live in an isolated cell, in constant fear. The other protocol calls for a containment shield to be cast around the object in question. These are typically used in area curses, to limit how far the curse reaches. It _could_ be used to shield yourself in the long haul, but that's a serious drain on your magic. I doubt Dumbledore could manage a shield past 5 minutes. Plus, you can't lose concentration on it at all, meaning you can't cast any other spells while you're shielding yourself. I've got to ask, though, Harry, why is a fourth year interested in this kind of stuff?"

Harry felt a calming presence sweep over his mind and felt Marv guide the words,

"Well, truth be told, it sounds like something I might be interested in knowing. We've already had experience with cursed objects, like Ginny's Diary. Plus, you're my best friend's oldest brother and I hardly know anything about you. Charlie does dragons, Percy just started Ministry stuff, and I know the rest of the family rather well. Plus, a certain _someone_ has been nagging me about O.W.L.s and I guess I'm just trying to figure out what I want to have a basis in. Do you mind loaning me any books you might have dealing with curse-breaking? I'd like to read some more. I would buy them myself, but the only time I get to go to a bookstore is with your mum and, well, we both know she'd try stopping me."

Bill leaned back in his chair with a grin, knowing all too well what Harry was getting at. He rose from the table and made his way to where some spare parchment was resting on a table. He scribbled something down on it using a muggle pen, Harry noted, before tearing the piece off and folding it up.

"Most of my collection is back in Egypt, but here are the names of some books to get you started. Once you get back in school, write me and I'll send you the ones you can't find in the library."

 _Is that good enough, Marv? He doesn't have the books on him, but he said he'll help. Now can I just relax?_ Harry thought to the Dark Lord residing in his skull.

 _it will…suffice, I suppose. But because of this, I want you to start thinking of weaknesses of this household. Observe their mistakes, pay attention. Don't be like your father and leave your wand behind, for an example._

Harry affirmed, before continuing the day.

_

 **AN:** It's short. I know. I've been thinking of various things to incorporate into the story but haven't found the willpower to write. Mental illness sucks and it's only getting worse for me. I'll probably just keep doing time skips to bigger events from now on, truth be told. Meaning the next chapter will be the aftermath of the World Cup, the chapter after that will be the Goblet choosing the champions thing. Then the task, so forth and so forth. Sorry if I'm letting y'all down.


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